


Safe And Sound

by sasha_b



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Charles and control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe And Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Comment fic for the comm on Live Journal.

"Erik."

When Charles speaks to him as opposed to _thinking_ it, Erik knows something is amiss.

He looks up from where he's laying on the ground, the dirt hard packed and staining his light grey sweatsuit. The monstrosity that is is the satellite dish hulks over them, the sun blotted out by its steel bowl. It's chilly, but the snappy breeze that blows through Erik's hair feels good, and so he smiles when he meets bright blue eyes, focusing on him. Focusing only on him, as Charles is wont to do and so very well at that.

"Yes?" He cocks an eyebrow, but keeps his hands where they are, fingers spread slightly, half his brain concentrating on the dish, the other half concentrating on Charles and his interruption. 

"What are you doing down there?"

His voice is melodic and concerned ( _Erik, you're not alone_ ) and Erik looks away from him, letting his head rest on the ground, and focuses on his singular goal again. One finger, then two, twitching, seemingly aimless, but the direction his chosen path.

He grunts and feels sweat pop up on his brow, and the shrieking of the metal bits above his head would have another man fleeing in terror. Charles merely frowns more deeply, his hands thrust into his sweater pockets, his hair hanging a bit askew. The bolts that have suddenly come free swing in a circle around Charles' head, the four pieces of metal (Erik's friend before Charles) brushing his cheek as Erik concentrates, eyes narrowing, hands splayed, concentrate, focus, don't let him distract -

"I have a game set up. And it's time for dinner. You've been out here for hours, Erik. Come in, won't you?" Charles crouches, the bolts flying at Erik's command to follow him, the sweat coming faster now, his scalp wet, red skin flushing with the effort of control.

_shriiieeeeeek_

"Charles," Erik bites the name off, his eyes daring to dart to the other man, "why don't you get out from under here, as I don't know that I can hold this much longer." His voice is rough and worried but Charles in his inanity stays where he is, sitting on the ground next to where Erik is laying even as the girder above them begins to shift with the loss of its bolts. Erik's gaze snaps to the girder, and his left hand twitches toward it, holding it in place even as the bolts he's circling around Charles bob and weave and he sweats and grits his teeth and the girder shakes and the bolts fly everywhere and the wind is suddenly a gale force and he sits up, hand raised, shoulder tight, trying to damn well focus and he feels it _slip_ from him and diving into Charles, he shoves the other man out of the way, the two of them tumbling out into the setting sunlight, the girder crashing in a twisted heap onto the dirt packed ground, where Erik and Charles had been a moment before.

Erik lays on Charles, his head pressed to Charles' neck, panting, the flush to his skin surely uncomfortable against Charles', but he can't force himself to rise just yet. He could have crushed Charles. He could have done something awful. He could have - he did - lose control and he could have killed him.

He swallows, a thick lump of anger and self rage that rises, spiraling, spinning, burning and catching everything he feels in its wake and he sucks in a breath even as he touches Charles, making sure the other man is fine, is not hurt, and he makes to shove off Charles but the other man raises his hand and with a whisper light brush _touches_ Erik's temple and Erik stills.

It isn't words, but it's Charles and Erik shuts his eyes and relaxes against the other man's prone body, even though he's bigger and he feels

he feels

he feels Charles. And Charles says _calm your mind, my friend_ , and he slowly drops his thin fingers from Erik's head, and Erik sits up, shaking and sweating and he wipes a palm over his face, shame and defeat sucking up the energy of _rageragerage_ and forcing it away.

The sun has set. The wind is stronger, and Charles sits up as well, his eyes - that blue - catch Erik's, and Erik pinches his lips closed over the self hate he was going to spout. Charles can hear it anyway, he knows, and he cares more about that than he does saying it out loud.

"Dinner," Charles says gently, and stands, sticking out a hand for Erik, who grabs it after a brief second of _black black_ , brain worn out like a trashed corn husk. He looks up at the hated satellite dish, something that will always defeat him most likely, no matter how much he practices.

"Charles," Erik says after a moment. Charles has turned to go back to the mansion, but pauses, not looking back. 

_I trust you, Erik._

He puts his hand back toward Erik again, and again Erik hesitates, but takes it more readily this time, the calm he feels now not projected through Charles' mind, but from Charles himself, and Erik thinks _serenity, focus._

_Charles._

They walk together as night comes on and the stars wink and are beautiful, but Erik doesn't notice. He only notices Charles' hand in his, and the smile on the other man's face. 

Erik breathes, and will try again tomorrow.


End file.
